


Five Times Ransom and Bitty Went Shopping, and One Time Ransom and Jack Went Without Him

by selfsong



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7473246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selfsong/pseuds/selfsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just Bitty and Ransom, going shopping, talking shit, being bros.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. August 2014

August 2014

  
“Hey man, you on a murder spree?”

  
Eric hesitated on the sidewalk where he was peeling away from the cluster of guys walking from Faber toward the hockey Haus for some cool-down games of Mario Kart. He tried to quickly translate Justin’s - Ransom’s - jock-ese. Almost two weeks into his Samwell experience, Eric was pretty sure that none of his new teammates hated him (his captain very much excepted), and that “murder spree” was unlikely to be either an accusation or a threat, but it remained incomprehensible.

  
Ransom’s beautiful eyes crinkled in a smile.

  
“For groceries. If you’re not coming back to the Haus, there’s not a lot of campus this way except for Murder Stop’n’Shop. Definitely no frog dorms.”

  
“Oh, um, yeah! Yeah, I thought I’d make some pies for the start-of-semester kegster Shitty was talking about. Did you want me to pick something up for you?”

  
“I thought so. ‘Swawesome,” Ransom said. “Nah, I’ll come with, I can help carry.”

  
“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I mean you can come, of course, if you want to, but I can manage it myself, it’s really not. A problem.” Eric shook himself a little, thinking, “Shut up, shut up.”

  
“Dude, no worries. I’ve had your pie. Everyone’s gonna want some, you must need to buy loads of stuff. And I plan to eat more than my share, so I can definitely help secure the provisions,” said Ransom, tipping his head in the direction Eric had been walking.

  
Eric smiled back at him and started moving again, pleased but still a little uncertain. He hadn’t really spoken to Ransom yet, not outside of practice and definitely not without Holster around making everyone else’s conversational input superfluous.  
They seemed to mostly discuss the pursuit, acquisition, and eating of pussy, and Eric’s potential contributions there were… limited. Neither did he have opinions on brands of beer, classes hadn’t started yet and he wouldn’t have any in common with a pre-med sophomore anyway--

  
“You worked mad hard today, bro, I saw you on those suicides,” Ransom said.

  
Right, hockey! They could talk about hockey.

  
“Yeah, my team back home hated me for my nightmare drills - suicides where you have to keep stopping to do crunches and stuff? - so you can’t coast or save any momentum and you have to keep starting over and over from a full stop,” Eric offered, grinning in memory of some of his players’ more dramatic protests. “They should’ve been more grateful. Nightmares don't have anything on the conditioning Katya- my old figure skating trainer- put me through five mornings a week,” Eric continued.

  
“Your team?” asked Ransom.

  
“Oh, I played the last three years in a coed league? I was the captain, junior and senior years.”

  
“‘Swawesome, bro. I’ve been skating forever - Canadian kids, you know - but I don’t think I really got good until I met Holtzy and it just felt so good to play, you know? I can’t imagine being in charge of a team my second year playing hockey.”

  
“I miss them - my girls. Mostly girls- the guys who want to play a team sport are mostly interested in football, in Georgia, and most of them wouldn’t want to play on a coed team at anything. It’s… an adjustment, I guess, getting used to a new team. I only ever played with them.”

  
They’d stepped into the air conditioning and disinfectant smell of the convenience store as Eric talked.

  
“You’re doing fine, man. It’s a lot of change all at once, but Samwell Men’s Hockey rules: we got your back.” Ransom snagged a basket, windmilling it around his wrist twice. “Okay, Cap, what’s the play? Is there a list?”

  
“Can you grab four blocks of butter while I look at the fruit?”

  
Ransom saluted and left Eric to contemplate both the apples and Ransom’s total lack of derision about his hockey experience. He grabbed enough apples to makes pies for a crowd without spending his semester’s budget before the semester technically started, as well as a few packs of blackberries to make something a bit different for Ransom and the other guys in the Haus.  
Ransom rejoined him as he got in line at the checkout.

  
“Oh my God, did you see the display of American flag flip flops? This isn’t even a Canadian-being-salty-about-Americans-putting-flags-on-goddamn-everything thing, they’re just so ugly my eyes are bleeding.”

  
Eric grinned, wider than he probably had since coming to Massachusetts.

  
“Lord, you sweet summer child. Just you wait until I tell you about about the things I’ve seen in Georgia.”


	2. December 2014

“Is it like… I don’t know. Too much?” Bitty stepped out of the dressing room to stand hesitantly in front of Ransom.

  
He only noticed that his shoulders were sneaking up towards his ears because the floral shirt was pulling taut where it was tucked into his slim trousers.

  
“Bits! You look incredible, man. The bow tie is iconic, but the element of actual fuckin genius here is the double monk strap shoes.”

  
“He won’t think I look too…”

  
“Too intimidatingly good for him? I agree, you might, but that’s a litmus test you're just going to have to learn to leverage, bro, if you’re gonna walk around looking that fly.”

  
“Too gay, I meant.”

  
“Bitty…” Ransom’s voice was too gentle. It made Bitty’s hands ball at his sides and his stomach churn unhappily. Yes, fine, he understood that Samwell was different and seeing as he _was gay_ , he was allowed to _look gay_ ; that didn’t make it easy to just drop 18 years of practiced caution. Pitying looks from straight men were not useful in making him feel any more confident in his blatantly twink-y outfit or any less guilty about feeling uncomfortable with looking as gay as he was.

 

  
Ransom had shown up at Bitty’s dorm the day after he’d come out to him and Holster, Chinese takeout in one hand and a duffel bag full of accessories in the other.  
They’d gone through Bitty’s closet and the egg rolls at about the same rate, repeatedly wiping their greasy fingers off in order to layer ties with potential shirts or dig up missing shoes. It had been fun, comfortable. Bitty’d mostly turned to his mama for outfit advice in the past. She was the best, obviously, and had a great eye for colors, but talking about clothes with a big athletic dude who knew about Bitty and didn’t care… it had been a good night.

 

 

Back in the dressing room Bitty braced for condescending compassion.

  
“Bro. You can look however you want, including less flashy. I already grabbed a plain blue shirt in the cut you’re rocking right now, if you wanna try it on.”

  
Oh. That was… a lot better than the pep talk he’d expected.

  
“You’ve gotta keep the shoes on though. Maybe a super-skinny tie? I saw this great one that was juuust on the purple side of navy out there, want me to snag it?”

 

Bitty chose the quieter outfit for Winter Screw, but he bought both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, but all of the other chapters are at least partially written, so the next should be up in a couple days! Thanks darlings.


	3. April 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Spring C, y'all.

“So I was like, ‘The salmon shorts are deliberate, Holster. This look is like, _in conversation_ with the douchebro aesthetic. It’s not like _I’m_ the one wearing boat shoes with basketball shorts for no reason, like a doofus.’ I know he’s almost blind, but how is he possibly so bad at seeing things even when he’s wearing glasses?!” Ransom gestured expansively as he recapped the argument.

“Mhm. Salmon really suits your skintone, too.”

“Yes, _thank you._ Someone appreciates me.”

Bitty stirred his melting iced coffee around and around with the straw. He and Ransom were having their weekly gossip at Annie’s and trying to perfect their summer orders, having begrudgingly relinquished the winter latte flavors.

“Okay, so, on the topic of ‘eat your fucking heart out, I look goddamn incredible’ outfits,” Bitty said slowly.

“Passive-aggressive fashion, I love it, go on.”

“Spring C.”

“Are we trying to prove something to someone specific, or is this a universal ‘I’m too good for you’ outfit?”

“Ugh, both, a little? I’m just so not looking forward to playing straight in Georgia all summer. Last year I didn’t really know how frustrating it would be, getting shoved back into the closet? You know, I was a frog with a concussion, I was kind of homesick.

“I _love_ my family and my town, and my kids at camp, and summer in the south, sweet tea and bonfires and making jam with my mama and aunts and cousins. I just. It makes me so _angry_ , that I have to pick one part of me at a time. I love Georgia. I don't _want_ to have to wear plausible-deniability-straight-guy clothes to be allowed to love Georgia.”

Bitty fished out some of his remaining ice cubes and chewed them mutinously for a moment.

“I guess I want to just, like, look as Samwell as possible, while I can. And like, there’s not necessarily a guy, but if there was Spring C would be the moment to go all out.”

Ransom slurped the rest of his coffee, clapped his hands together, and said, “Text Lardo. We’re going to the mall. This is going to be the best, sloppiest, most flamboyant Spring C ever.”

* * *

 

They entered the mall through the craft store, so Lardo could stock up on glitter, hair chalk, and the coated wire she needed to make “the most epic of flower crowns.”

Once they got into the mall proper, Ransom waved them toward Urban Outfitters.

“You guys start while I go to Dicks. I’ll catch you in like twenty.”

“Wait, why?”

“They have camping gear. We’re going to pre-mix cocktails in camelbaks and put them in the freezer overnight so we have hands-free spill-proof cold drinks without lugging coolers and stuff. If you’re gonna day drink without miscalculating and burning out before the concert even starts, you gotta maintain your gains without getting ahead of yourself, so I invented the BoozeHoze system. It keeps you level because you go sip by sip, not drink by drink. And it’s impossible to make the rookie error of pouring heavier drinks as you get drunk because it’s already measured. Plus there’s no cups, no spills, and no litter.”

Bitty and Lardo stared at him.

Ransom went on. “And I’ve finally got the drink formula finished to optimize the bags for each of us. I’d been factoring in weight, event duration, and alcohol proof, obviously, but I figured out how to account for metabolism and alcohol tolerance from our typical consumption patterns. I needed to track us over several kegsters to get the data, so it took a while.”

“...Bro. I’m a little bit scared of you, sometimes, you’re so brilliant.”

Ransom accepted Lardo’s praise with a modest smile, then walked purposefully toward the other end of the building.

He was back just fifteen minutes later - by which point Lardo had already talked Bitty into a pair of red short shorts and a sparkly spandex shirt.

“Biiiiiiits! You have to get it! It’s like I don’t even know you!!” she was laughing as he tried to take it off.

“Give it to Shitty for graduation or something,” Bitty said, stretching it to shoot at her face like a rubber band.

She snatched it out of the air and grinned deviously.

Ransom whistled at her. “Lards, I can’t decide if the fact that you only use those reflexes for pong is like, the ultimate bro power move, or a shame upon our haus.”

Bitty explored the clearance racks feeling warm and content, brushing his fingers over the different textures and listening to Lardo and Ransom argue over the last Sun’s Out Guns Out tank. (“It won’t even fit you!” “Obviously I’m going to cut it up and make it better!”)

He’d wandered halfway across the store when Ransom gasped and yelled, “Bro! Biiiiiiits!!” while waving something over his head.

Having had nearly two years of experience being kicked out of places with the Samwell Men’s Hockey team, Bitty knew to rush back to them before Ransom felt the need to explain at volume.

“Bits. I’m making an official Better Bitty Booty Bureau mandate that you’ve got to wear those shorts to Spring C. But look what I found to go with them.” The fabric he was brandishing was a buttery yellow tank top with a deep V neck: Bitty pulled the hem taut to read the cursive “Y’all means ALL” on the front.

Looking up from the shirt to Ransom’s grin, he felt as warm as if it were already August in Madison. Bitty bounced up to wrap both arms around his neck, letting Ransom fold him up in a hug that Eric two years ago- one year ago- wouldn’t have expected from anyone or accepted in public. Bitty slid back to his feet and cleared his throat.

“If I get famous and you get tired of being a doctor you can come be my stylist.”

Ransom squeezed his shoulder and said simply, “Bro. A true honor. Okay, Lardo’s turn. Should we be at a thrift store? What’s the vision? Space witch? Apocalyptic lesbian? Coachella pirate?”

Lardo motioned to the checkout and said, “Okay, so there was this temporary exhibit at the MFA last summer that I’ve been thinking about…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) From Bitty’s twitter we know that Lardo picked his Spring C shorts, which at first made me think I’d have to write about a different occasion, but obviously the better solution was to have all three of them hang out. Also from twitter, there’s a pic of Shitty and Bits where we see his, frankly rather conservative, striped blue and white tee shirt. I have decided for story purposes that at the point that picture was taken someone less prepared than Ransom has spilled a drink on Bitty and he’s changed his shirt.  
> 2) Another thing you should know: in the first page of google image results for “Y’all means all shirt” there are two photos of Beyonce. Couldn’t figure out how to get that in there, but. Important background info.  
> 3) I’m never sure if I’m using the right amount of dialogue tags. All specific feedback/correction/criticism is appreciated, but I’d particularly like to know if it’s ever unclear who’s speaking or if the names are getting repetitive, because I really can’t tell. Thanks xxoxoxo


	4. October 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty and Ransom and Halloween.

It was a gorgeous October day, sunny but crisp as a good baking apple. Despite his cherished and god-given right to complain theatrically about the cold, Bitty loved fall in New England. But despite the colors, accessories, and seasonal flavor combinations to experiment with, today the haus was occupied with a less pleasant autumnal tradition: midterms were upon them and Ransom had been coral-reefing hard all week. He’d had his last exam, but precedent said that he wouldn’t be himself until the grades were actually posted. Bitty, hesitant to leave him alone but afraid of making it worse, coaxed him into the kitchen and quietly worked on developing his PSL pie recipe while listening to Ransom’s panicky muttering.

“I’ve done all of the good Halloween costumes. There’s nothing left. It’s probably a good thing I’m graduating, except for all of the ways that it’s terrifying and unthinkable, because I don’t have any more ideas. My brain only does math now. I feel like a computer. Computers don’t wear costumes, that would be ridiculous. I don’t remember how to throw a kegster. What did we do for Halloween last year? Why are midterms so close to Halloween? Why does god hate me?” Ransom’s voice was still coming in a frantic monotone from under Bitty’s kitchen table, but at least he’d progressed from reciting formulas, his MCAT scores, and admissions statistics to freaking out about a topic Bitty could engage with.

Bitty crouched down so that he could see more than the soles of Ransom’s sneakers. He nudged over a plate of the banana bread he’d sympathy-stress-baked while waiting for Ransom to rally or Holster to get out of class.

“Rans, honey. I can't tell you I know what's going to happen with your classes or med school apps, because honestly everything you do is way over my head. But you're so smart! A hundred times smarter than me. Any school lucky enough to land Justin Oluransi should be honored.”

Seeing Ransom’s miserable mouth and desperate eyes pulled on Bitty’s heart, but he looked slightly more present. Bitty barrelled on with his primary interpersonal strategy of cheerful rambling.

“And Halloween’s gonna be great! We can throw a party with our eyes closed, and you love getting dressed up. I bet there’s a perfect costume you’re overlooking because you’re upset. Why don’t you eat a little banana bread and I’ll make us some tea, darlin’? Then we can go costume shopping later? You could be a superhero.” Patting him on the ankle of his Spiderman high top, Bitty wheedled, “Do you wanna watch some shoe unboxing videos?”

He didn’t get a verbal answer, but Ransom shrugged and nodded just enough that Bitty hoped he wasn’t being a pest. Bitty made the tea, then shoved in next to Ransom under the table with his laptop.

They watched three or four unboxings in silence and worked through the plate of banana bread.

“1993,” Ransom said quietly.

Bitty, who hadn’t been paying a ton of attention, as his love of Ransom greatly outstripped his interest in Air Jordan styles, hummed interrogatively at him.

“These are a revival of the original ‘93 model, not 94.”

Bitty tried to play it cool, instead of crying on him in relief. “Oh, neat. You know, if you ever wanted to make your own I could help you with the camera and editing. We could do a crossover episode and you’d finally get to guest-star on my vlog.”

Ransom smiled at him, an uncharacteristically timid expression, and said softly, “Thanks, man.”

At that moment, Holster slammed open the door and came in singing Rihanna, so they let the moment pass and crawled out from under the table.

* * *

 

Two days later Ransom had maintained his 3.9 GPA, Holster and Bitty had cleared the academic bar to remain on the hockey roster, and the three of them were digging through the sparse bins of costumes at a pop-up holiday shop. Samwell tended to go hard at Halloween, so they stocked a lot of adult sized costumes; but this close to the holiday the options were thoroughly picked-over. It did not help that all of Holster’s ideas were extremely high-concept or references to obscure minor characters in critically acclaimed sitcoms.

Ransom and Holster had worn coordinating costumes every year of college so far, but all of the intentionally couple-y costumes left were designed for one Ransom-or-Holster sized person and one much smaller and curvier one. (“Fuckin’ heteronormativity bro.” “Dude, Shitty should sue.”)

Bitty flipped through a rack of onesies, thinking of past Samwell theme-parties where he ended up severely underdressed and outside: if he was going to look ridiculous it might as well be ridiculous and warm. He passed over a set of giant teddy bear footie pajamas. Front and back of a two-person horse costume. Muppet. Skimpy kitten, mouse, puppy, bunny: these were clearly meant for the sorority girl set- very Elle Woods. There had definitely been a - flock? - herd? of puck bunnies in those last year, he remembered absently.

Oh lord, a _puck bunny_.

He snickered to himself, pleased with his joke that only one person would get, and grabbed the bunny suit in two sizes.

When he made it back to Ransom and Holster they were trying on superhero costumes - Holster was stripped down in the aisle fighting with an undersized Captain America costume while Ransom looked mournfully at a broken set of Falcon wings.

“Iron Man and War Machine!”

“Wolverine and Nightcrawler.”

“Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn?”

“Spiderman and Deadpool!”

Bitty dug down under a load of topical cash-in costumes - Pizza Rat, Left Shark, minions - all steeply discounted already. Turning the pile over like a compost heap, he unearthed some spandex that might have been a secret trove of super-suits. He tugged at the blue and yellow unitards, then tossed them onto a blue-and-black-and-white-and-gold The Dress.

“Dude! Dude-dude-dude,” said Holster.

“Huh?” said Bitty.

“ _Booster Gold and Blue Beetle_ ,” Ransom whispered, almost reverently.

“What?”

“Bitty, you saved Halloween!” yelped Holster, scrambling for the costumes.

“Oh, yeah, obviously. I totally did. Save Halloween. On purpose, with - those.”

The guys were already squirming into the costumes, and as soon as they snapped the goggles over their faces, started their secret handshake. Ninety seconds later, after the friendship oath, trustfall and back-handspring finale, they swooped Bitty up in a double hug.

Halloween saved, they loaded a cart with spiderwebs, orange and black solo cups, and several new packages of beer pong balls. Bitty would have liked to see Jack that weekend - every weekend- but torturing him with saucy puck-bunny selfies would have to do. These ridiculous boys were his team - his captains! - and there wasn’t much worth skipping their last Haus-lloween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Bitty’s pumpkin spice latte pie is in fact a recipe that I’ve been working on this fall, and I almost have it right. Because Bitty, like me, thinks that while pumpkin pie is festive, its stodgy, mucky texture is always disappointing. And that coffee, cream, fall spices, and pumpkin should be edible as well as potable. Stay tuned on [tumblr](http://selfsong.tumblr.com/) for updates, pictures, and the final recipe ;)  
> 2\. Do I have strong feelings about my headcanon of Ransom’s strong feelings about Spiderman, a black science nerd superhero? Yes. Do I really wish that Ransom and Holster had dressed as boyfriends Spiderman and Deadpool? Yes. Is this because I don’t know anything about DC and needed help to even identify their costumes in that pic? Maybe, but also come on how great would that be.  
> 3\. Unboxing videos are one of Ransom’s anxiety strategies. He also likes ASMR vids. All shoe information is blatantly made up; I started to research and then realized that I have limits.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y’all. I’ve been a full-time fandom lurker for over a decade but I’ve never written fanfiction before? Honestly I’ve barely written fiction? There’s something about Check Please though… Anyway I’m posting this because I’m sick of fussing with it and I keep erasing words and then putting them back; hopefully publishing this first bit will let me finish the other sections. I’m second-guessing absolutely everything, so opinions and feedback will be cherished. Come play with me on [tumblr](http://selfsong.tumblr.com/) <3


End file.
